


Feed Your Head

by SpiffyRicky



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ahch-to in the Mediterranean, Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, Blindfolds, Dark, Darkfic, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional Manipulation Kink, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gender-swapped Greek Mythology, Gorgons (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), Historical Fantasy, Horror, Human/Monster Romance, Inspired by Hades and Persephone (Ancient Greek Religion & Lore), It's not the snakes that make him a monster, MEDUSLO, Medusa!Kylo, Mirror Sex, Monsterfucking, Monsters, Mysterious fumes, Non-Consensual, Noncon that doesn't look like noncon, Oracles, Oral Sex, Perseus!Rey, Restraints, Rim job, Snakes, Specters in the distance, Teratophilia, Underworld, Unreliable Narrator, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Villainfucking, Violence, Warrior rey, dependency kink, monster kylo, snake sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:08:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiffyRicky/pseuds/SpiffyRicky
Summary: Ancient Greek hero Reseus is on a quest to behead the monstrous snake known as Meduslo. If she succeeds, she’ll save her people from slavery and slaughter. If she fails—she’ll lose everything she’s ever loved. But in order to face him, she has to face herself.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & Rey, Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey & Ben Solo, Rey & Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 13
Kudos: 23
Collections: 2021 Reylo MonsterLoving Valentines





	Feed Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine’s Day! Scroll down to the end notes for pictures of the clothing and info about the armor and Greek words. 
> 
> Fic vibes (and title):  
> [Jefferson Airplane, “White Rabbit”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YfASumLhC2U)

Rey crept carefully down the rocky slope, stepping off the crumbling stone stairs and into the stiff tufts of grass that dotted the steep descent to the Bay of Ahch-to. The midday sky was gray but bright, allowing plenty of light for her to see where she was going but not enough to make her bronze armor gleam.

Soon she was on top of the mouth of the cave. When she peered over the side of the cliff, she saw a shelf of flat dark rock jutting out over the waves crashing far below. She got on her hands and knees and scrambled down the rock face, jumping onto the platform when she got close enough.

The entrance to the cave was tall and narrow and jagged. Rey unstrapped her shield from her back and her iron short sword from her hip, thrusting both out before her as she inched forward into the darkness. The Skywalker twins, renowned seers, had advised her that the monster did not emerge into the antechamber of the cave, but lurked somewhere much deeper, hiding and sulking in the prison of its body. Once she was inside, bright light at her back and nothing but blackness before her, she stayed close to the wall of the large circular chamber, skirting the light and the central dais it shone upon, seeking a passageway that would lead her deeper into the cave system.

But she found nothing, no tunnel, not even a crack in the stone. She circled the perimeter a second time, searching higher and lower now, and slower, scraping her calloused palms all along the rock, but to no avail. There was no way out except the way she’d come in. Yet the Skywalker twins, casting herbs into the fire in their hut and reading the smoke, had told her this was the way.

Finally, cautiously, she approached the low flat platform in the center of the room, where she found an ancient mosaic of black and white tiles set into the floor. A naked warrior was depicted there, standing tall, battle-weary, with a strong lithe body and sorrowful face made of obsidian shards, holding a white sword in one black hand and a white severed head in the other. Although their colors were opposite, the faces of the slayer and the slain were the same. The latter dripped red glass tiles of blood from its slit white throat down onto the black hand that held it aloft.

Rey stepped back with a gasp, the slap of her leather sandal echoing around the cavern. That was what she’d come here to do. Kill the basilisk, take its head, carry it back to her people. Why was it already shown here, before it happened? Why did the head look human? And feel so familiar?

This was a mistake. She kept her breath steady and her guard up but retreated as fast as she could out of the cave, across the platform, onto the crag, clambering back up the way she came. She would have to sneak out of Sparta, sail home empty-handed, tell the Resistance to find another secret weapon, another way to stop _Proton Ethnos_ from conquering and colonizing Argos.

She kept her sword and shield in hand as she marched up the broken mountain steps and down the other side, all the way back to the far reaches of the island where she’d beached her boat. Only it wasn’t there. Not just the boat—the entire beach was gone. Turquoise water slapped against the tawny walls of the cove, filling the footholds she’d climbed up just a few hours ago. She didn’t understand. She’d carefully calculated her timing and landing position. High tide shouldn’t be here until nightfall.

Rey let herself think. The Skywalker twins, alone in the forest with only their visions to sustain them, had mentioned none of this when she consulted them. They’d told her how and when to sail to the uncharted island in the Bay of Ahch-to, how to find the hidden cave, how to behead the murderous snake before being destroyed by it. They’d even outfitted her with weapons and armor from the gods, guaranteed to guide and protect her. But this was all wrong. She hadn’t seen any living creatures, hadn’t heard any birds, hadn’t detected a single animal track since setting foot ashore. That mosaic was ancient, but she’d recognized its face. She was afraid to know why. And now she had no way off this nameless isle. The Spartan mainland was too far away to swim to, and swarming with her enemies besides. She had to hunt before she was hunted. The monster lurked deep within the very ground she paced upon.

She let her instincts guide her away from the steps once more, down and around the curve of the island to a rocky outcropping shrouded in fog. The stone was slick with mist and moss-covered, flecked with foam from waves she couldn’t see. She put away the sword and took out her spear, using it as a staff on the slippery surface, keeping her shield strapped around the bracer on her left arm. She couldn’t hear her footfalls, only the whooshing of the sea below, couldn’t see anything but the white cloud enveloping her, and the wet cracked crag, and her foot wrapped in brown leather straps stealing across its lichenous face. It was impossible to tell how close to the cliff’s edge she crept.

Just as Rey was questioning her instincts and considering turning back, she heard a strange sound, like hushed sobs amplified, coming from around a corner she couldn’t see. She continued to make her way through the gray salt spray, braced to kill anything that came at her. The seething waves were getting louder and louder, closer and closer, and the other sound grew underneath them, a loud wordless weeping luring her forward.

Suddenly, the ground changed. It wasn’t solid and smooth, but soft and bumpy. There was something beneath her feet. She tripped, falling hard to her knees, her spear handle smacking and her round shield clanging, palms slapping against the stone. Her breath came hard and shallow as she looked down into a circular hole, her hands shaking, gripping the edge. She’d almost fallen right through.

A mass of seaweed and kelp lay in a starburst formation all around and beneath her, slimy green strands emanating from the wet dark center like writhing snakes. The shushing crying sound was coming from inside the hole and so was the fog, tendrils of it wafting up into her face as she tried to see what was below. It smelled sweet and pungent, like fruit that needed to be eaten. The clouds thinned, allowing gray light to illuminate the floor of a cave below her, and a rock wall leading down to it, covered in kelp and vines thick enough to climb.

She looked up and out to the sea before her. The horizon was far away and hazy, blurring sky and water together, boding no good omens for her. But she had no choice. Or rather, she’d already made it.

With the iron spear strapped to her back once more, her shield on her arm and her sword in her teeth, Rey turned around and crawled backwards down into the hole, silently asking Artemis the Huntress and Apollo the Python-Slayer to watch over her. The bronze greaves that covered her shins and kneecaps bonged against the rock as she descended. The white draped skirt of her chiton fluttered around her thighs in the billowing vapor. Slippery shoots of sea grass snaked inside her sandal straps as if they were trying to hold her back. The smell of decaying fruit kept getting stronger and stronger. By the time she reached the cave floor, her head was swimming with it.

Rey crouched defensively as she took the blade out of her mouth and turned around. She was in a colossal semicircular chamber, broken at one point by a hole the sea had torn into the wall, letting itself in to lap against the shelf of flat dark rock jutting out before her. The entrance was tall and narrow and jagged. Chunky stalagmites covered much of the platform she knelt upon, blocky like broken tombstones. At the far end she glimpsed a long tunnel, dark but capturing the light. Something was here, she could feel it. The loud muted crying she’d been following had stopped, as if it was listening to her.

She steeled herself. This was it. The serpent must be lurking within that tunnel. She squatted behind rock formations as she made her way, shield and weapons drawn, pausing to listen and look for the monster, trying to clear the fuzziness growing in her head like mold.

The platform was longer than it seemed—or the ground was harder to walk on than she’d expected—or she was moving slower than she thought. She kept going but didn’t seem to get anywhere. The waves sounded like voices whispering to her to stay. Every patch of rocks looked the same once she reached it. There were fissures down in between the clusters, deep gashes out of which white gas drifted. The water was black, the air was white, the rock was gray, and she couldn’t make sense of any of it.

Then, amongst the jagged slabs, she spied a rectangle of smooth stone. A man sat on the other side of it with his back to her, still as a statue. She stopped.

“You’ve come,” he said, not turning around. “I’ve been waiting for you.” His low throaty voice echoed between them, layered on itself. Rey could hear traces of the hushed weeping in it.

She didn’t feel like she was really there, in the cave or inside her body. “Were you crying for the monster?” she asked. Her voice sounded like someone else’s, thick and slow.

“Yes,” he whispered, his voice reverberating back to her. His hair fell in thick black coils to his muscular shoulders. One was draped in black fabric, the other bare and alabaster pale, as if the sun hadn’t seen him in years.

This didn’t make sense. He shouldn’t be here. But also this felt right, this was the place. She knew the monster was here. “Are you its guardian, then?”

His voice evened out a bit. “Didn’t they tell you who I am?”

“Nobody’s supposed to be here but the snake.”

“Ah.” He hummed a note that was almost a laugh, turning his head, but not enough for her to see his face. “I’m the oracle of Poseidon. This is my chamber. That is my mirror.”

“What mirror?”

“The one I’m watching you in.”

Rey scanned the cavern slowly, feeling dizzy. The heady smell was getting stronger. There. Up ahead, in the mouth of the tunnel. A fearsome warrior stood staring back at her, posture braced for action much like her own. She walked toward it, drawn to it, raising her bronze shield over her head in case the serpent appeared. It would turn you to stone if you met its gaze. That’s why she was going to kill it. Cut off its head and take it back to Argos, use it to turn their enemies in the _Proton Ethnos_ into dust. Save her people from slavery and slaughter.

“Oracle? Where’s your temple?” she asked as she approached the tunnel. He was behind her now, still seated, but she didn’t look back at him. The figure before her was too distracting.

“This is the temple,” he answered after a long pause. His voice sounded distant and intimate at the same time. “It didn’t always look like this. Poseidon the Earth-Shaker tore the walls down and cast it into the sea in his wrath. Trapping me here.”

It hadn’t been a tunnel she’d seen, but the chamber reflected back at her in the mirror wall. She stood before it now. The warrior facing her was beautiful, strong, fierce, with dark hair, darker eyes, and olive skin that glistened with battle scars. Brown leather straps were wrapped around her ankles and forearms. Bronze greaves covered her calves. A burnished bronze cuirass with leather lambrequins was buckled tightly over her sleeveless, thigh-length chiton.

Rey had never looked in a mirror before. She’d seen herself rippling in the water when she knelt down to drink from streams and rivers while out on campaigns, and she gazed at the shape of her shadow sometimes on the ground, but warriors didn’t have the means or the need for vanity. Now that she stood before her own image, she was spellbound.

The man behind her cleared his throat.

She tried to remember the last thing he’d said. “There is no oracle of Poseidon.”

“At Tainaron there is,” he countered.

“Tainaron sank into the sea in the great earthquake.” She noticed his reflection above her shoulder, watching her from an angular throne carved out of the cavern floor.

He gestured around them, at the waves rollicking against the rock. “Here we are. Sunken.”

“Tainaron was the death oracle of Poseidon.”

“It is. I am.” He wore a long black himation draped over his left arm and folded below his sternum, exposing his full chest and right arm, covering the rest of his body. His features were beautiful and cold, alien, like he too was carved from stone. Wide brow, high cheekbones, strong chin, nose like the gnomon on a sundial. Almost sickly pale, although the brawn of his bare chest belied that.

“The _Necromanteion_? You can communicate with the dead?”

“That is my curse. But that’s not why you’re here.”

Rey tried to remember why she was there, and felt him watching her try. The image in the mirror was telling her a thousand things about herself she’d never known. She’d never thought about her eyelashes—they seemed long. Her cheeks and forehead and nose were soft and warm, bearing a thousand little constellations of colored flecks from the sun. Not freckles, not quite. Just variations. So different from the skin on her arms and legs and belly, the skin she knew. People always told her she had brown eyes, but all she saw was gleaming black, as if the pupil had consumed the iris. There were secrets in them that even she didn’t know.

He rose behind her and walked slowly toward her. He was broad and tall and blocky, like a stalagmite unmoored. Did she have to kill him to get to the monster? She would.

Now she remembered her purpose. When she drew herself up to her full height she staggered a little, swaying on her feet. The mist was wrapping itself around her like a warm hug. He stopped ten feet behind her, his dark eyes boring into the reflection of hers. Closer up he looked even more like a statue. A deep but colorless scar crossed his brow and cheek like a crack through marble. It looked as if his hair was moving. Not his head—he was keeping his body very still, tensed, waiting for her to do something. Only his hair seemed to be moving, the outline of it undulating like a thick black wave. Writhing.

Rey shook her head, trying to clear it, trying to be the warrior she had to be. This was why she didn’t indulge in vanity or other distractions. She shouldn’t feel this light and excited and warm, this thrilled about her own body, this separated from it. Everything looked different, felt different. Too vivid. She wanted to reach out and touch herself, not the physical body attached to her but the image of it in front of her. She wanted to feel what that version felt like, wanted to be that woman, strong and beautiful and alluring, not messy, not struggling, not in progress but complete.

“Don’t,” he warned her as she reached out her hand.

She was so close now. She leaned closer and closer until she could see the condensation of her breath on the polished metal of the wall.

Suddenly he was right behind her and pulling her back into his body, his big hand tight on her hip, reaching between the leather straps of her breastplate to clutch the lightweight linen beneath. “You can’t do that,” he hissed. “You know what that is.” He shook her. “You know. This is Tainaron. The _Necromanteion_.”

“Tainaron’s not real.”

“Even now you are skeptical?” He shook her harder, making her look up into the image of his eyes, challenging her. Up close he was covered in imperfections, moles and stubble and shadows under his eyes, pain in the downward curve of his mouth, suffering in the tightness of his brow. A living man, far from a statue. He loomed above and behind her, his bulky, half-naked torso framing her, the reflection of his face a full head above hers.

Rey shrieked and tried to pull away. He grabbed her other hip, pushing her down. All around his face snakes slithered, thick black coils of matte scales erupting from his scalp. A different pair of black beady eyes peered at her from the end of every strand, all unblinking. A dozen red forked tongues darted out of a dozen small black mouths, smelling her, trying to taste her, their bodies wiggling to get at her.

“If you turn around, I’ll kill you.” He squeezed her hips, taking handfuls of her, hiking up her chiton. “I don’t want to but I will. You can’t look at me directly.”

She stared at him in the mirror, the same man she’d been talking to before, but entirely different. A monster. He’d been a monster all along.

He nodded. “Say it. You know.”

“You’re the Meduslo.”

“And you the hero,” he hissed, his snakes coiling around both their heads, “destined to slay me. Reseus. The gods’ chosen one. No less cursed than I.”

“Rey. Just Rey.”

“I had a name once. I was a man. A boy. Did they tell you that?”

She shook her hot, swirling head. The Skywalker twins had made him sound like a basilisk, capable of devouring entire villages if not imprisoned in a cave in the middle of the sea. This was far worse.

He slid one giant hand beneath her cuirass, digging his fingers into the muscle beneath her navel. “You can’t touch the mirror. You can’t turn to look at me. Stay still. Or you will die.”

Finally, her instincts kicked in, cutting through the haze inside her. She jabbed him below his ribs with her elbow and lunged for the short sword strapped underneath her armpit. She didn’t remember putting it away but there it was, leaping from the sheath into her hand. Without turning around—he was right, she couldn’t—she drove the blade up high, diagonally across her body, down into the meat of his left shoulder, directly over and behind hers, grunting as she felt the familiar slide of metal into muscle, the shock of recognition in the twitch of his body against hers.

He did nothing to stop her, only groaned and closed his eyes and held her tighter.

“I’m going to kill you,” she swore as she pulled the blade back out, watching red blood spill out from his black himation like olive oil from an overturned lamp.

“I know,” he sighed. He bent his head down toward her, smelling her hair as he shuddered in pain, mouth almost touching the back of her head. “I’ve seen you kill me in the mirror a thousand times. I deserve it.” Two thick black snakes slid slowly along her neck, under her chin, their smooth, bumpy scales dragging against her skin. “But that’s not why you do it.”

“You don’t know me.”

“No? You aren’t here to murder me simply because they told you to do so?”

“Nobody told me to do anything.” More snakes were curling themselves around her now, sliding through her tied-back hair and around the shells of her ears, gliding across the leather straps and linen folds and bare flesh on her shoulders, making her shiver. Her body felt hyper-aware and their touch was awakening it further. She kept the sword clenched in her hand but let it fall to her side, brushing against his arm as he held her down.

He bent closer still, speaking low into her ear, allowing the snakes to make their way further down her body. “Did they make you think you lived in a world where you had to do it? That you had no choice?”

“I’m here to save my people. To do for Argos what no one did for my family.”

“You can’t change the past. I tried. That’s why I’m here.”

“You and I are nothing alike.”

“Of course not.” His eyes wandered her body as a slim forked tongue flicked across her clavicle, rough in texture but teasing in touch. Another licked long light strokes behind her earlobe, already warm with his breath. “Did they tell you what happened? How I ended up like this?”

“I don’t know who ‘they’ are.”

He breathed shakily against her ear, inhaling with his mouth open like he could smell what the snakes were tasting of her flesh. The white neck of her chiton was turning red with the blood pouring from his wound. “Yes, you do. I’m sure of it. Skywalker and his sister sent you.”

She hated him. A serpent would have been easy to kill. All she would have had to do was be strong and fast. Men talked, which meant they lied, schemed, manipulated. Rey didn’t want to listen. She didn’t want to reason. She didn’t want to resist. She wanted to thrust and drive and parry. She did not want questions and she did not want answers.

“Didn’t they,” he hissed.

“I sought them out. I asked for their help.”

“Did you seek their help in finding and killing me? Or was I the solution they proffered, to another problem?”

Her eyes were bleary and her head was filled with wool. She shouldn’t listen to him. She wouldn’t. She would only feel. He bent his head down over her shoulder, mouth hovering over the gap between her breastplate and the base of her throat, snake scales rustling against the bronze as their bodies coiled along her cuirass to her arms, drinking the sweat from her mist-damp skin.

“Why did you go to them, Rey? What did you need?” He rubbed his nose against her neck, his eyes half-closed in drowsy pleasure.

Her armor was so heavy. “To stop the _Proton Ethnos_.”

“And they told you that killing me would stop them? That I was a part of the Order?” His hands twisted and pulled at her chiton until she thought it would tear.

“You’re the secret weapon. Your head.” She had to stop talking. And thinking. She’d told him too much. The waves sighed as they lapped against the stone, agreeing with her.

“Did they say I was part of _Proton Ethnos_?” he growled.

She shook her head, letting it fall against his.

“What did they tell you about me?”

“Nothing. You’re not part of the story. A giant murderous snake. Locked away so you can’t hurt anybody anymore. I just need your head.”

“Why didn’t Poseidon kill me? If that’s it. Why let me live? Why trap me here? Didn’t you wonder?”

One of his hands had left her waist, but it was back. She wrapped her empty hands around his wrists, feeling the strength in them.

“Why does he make me keep on living with it?” he whispered as his mouth found her skin. As he gently kissed her throat and kneaded her hips and made soft reassuring sounds, the black snakes reached and stretched down her arms, squeezing exquisitely, answering the cries of her sensitive nerves. She watched herself in the mirror, head tilted back, eyes fathomless, body sensuous. She looked like someone else, someone wild and unabashed. A free woman.

“I wanted to save the world, you know,” he said into her wet flesh, “that’s why I did it. They used me too, just like they’re using you.”

“The Skywalker twins?”

“And the _Proton Ethnos_.”

“They’re not using me.”

“The rich and powerful use all of us.”

“The twins aren’t rich. They live in a hovel in the middle of the forest. They have nothing but the visions the gods send them.”

“She is royalty. He is the son of a deposed king. They were born into so much power that they could afford to choose poverty.” He slid his hands along her arms, pushing the snakes out of his way, the warmth of his skin contrasting with the chill of their scales as they writhed back over her again in his wake. “You want these off, don’t you?” he asked as he unwound the tight straps of the bracers from her forearms.

She nodded, though he'd already finished removing them.

“The Skywalkers are no different than the _Proton Ethnos_. Two sides of the same war. Each trying to kill the other. What’s the difference?”

“One is trying to conquer my homeland.”

He lifted his head to meet her eyes in the mirror. “You want to save the world. But you will destroy it. They’ll never let you win. They didn’t send you here to help you. They sent you here because you’re the only one who can kill me.” He ran his fingers along the grooves in her flesh where the straps had been, bringing one wrist up to explore it with his mouth and nose. The snakes followed suit, encircling her arm, sliding under and around her, pulling her closer to him until she leaned back into his body.

“I’m going to."

“I know.” He slid his free hand between the folds of her chiton, slipping his heat along her feverish body and moving his kisses back to her throat. Rey moaned and stirred beneath him. “I know.” He shushed her. “Don’t you want to see what the rest of you looks like? Who you are beneath all this?”

It did feel unnecessary to wear so much when she was so warm. The snakes that weren’t busy licking her were trying to worm their way under her armor. She rubbed her legs together.

He nodded. “Let me help you.”

As he unbuckled the straps of her cuirass and pulled it over her head, she made no move to help. She was too busy watching it happen to the version of herself in the mirror. Next came her chiton, little more than a loose scrap of fabric without the breastplate to hold it in place.

Now she stood naked before herself, naked except for his blood staining her shoulder and the greaves and sandals adorning her lower legs. Was this what people saw when they looked at her? Was this what the men who’d had her over the years had seen? She’d never taken a lover, but women in her world didn’t get to be virgins for very long, and they didn’t have a say in who took their bodies. Especially when they didn’t have parents around to protect them. Her dark eyes were huge and hungry, her pose languorous, her olive skin covered in sweat and wisps of mist, writhing snakes and big gentle hands roaming over her belly and waist and upper thighs.

“Rey,” he whispered, wrapping himself around her from behind, stooping his shoulders so he could suck on the front of her throat, bringing his hands up to caress her aching breasts. “Aren’t you going to try to stop me?”

She couldn’t look away from the desirous woman being worshipped in the mirror by man and snake. She was beautiful and powerful. Undebauchable. Not being taken advantage of. Being desired. Her head swam. She was lost in the sight of her own form before her, the visible expression of what she was feeling inside.

“You don’t care who I was, do you?” He was biting her throat now as he sucked on it. The noise of his hungry mouth sounded like the waves behind them, tearing and messy and impatient. “What I did. Why I did it.”

The thick black snakes were gathering at her breasts, sliding around them, rubbing themselves on her with the dry rattling sound of scales slipping. He cupped her for them, helping them flick and lick at her nipples. So many rough smooth tongues at once, small but long, delicate but demanding. She felt the gentle bite of their teeth, the teasing scrape of their fangs. None of it was real. Or it was terribly real.

“I don’t care either, now that you’re here.” He brought his left arm across her chest, cupping one tit and letting the other rest on him like a shelf, continuing to feed the snakes her flesh as his right hand drifted downward. He stroked her ribs, then the ridges of her abs, the funny pucker of her belly button, slowly making his way down the gentle slope of her belly to her mound.

He watched her watch his hands. She didn’t meet his eyes in the mirror. She couldn’t. He pressed her back harder into his body as he petted her thick, dark pubic hair. “You want me.”

She nodded.

“I know because you smell like you want me.”

She’d never seen herself blush before. She tried to stretch her body but he wouldn’t let her.

“I want you too, Rey.” His voice was desperate and yearning, like a boy trying not to cry. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen living flesh. Since I’ve felt anything.” He slipped a finger between her folds, letting her glimpse a slip of pink skin that she’d never actually seen before. He rubbed the spot she thought that only she knew about. “I want to make you feel good.” His finger kept thrumming her as his tongue tortured and soothed her throat and his snakes tickled and licked and bit and slid. “Don’t you want that?”

Her body felt so tightly wound. She tried again to stretch, reaching one arm way up over her shoulder and the other down as far as she could in the opposite direction. It helped. But then, for a jolting moment, her reflection was overlaid with the mosaic from that other cave up above. She held a sword low in one hand and a severed head high in the other. Her own head. Both pairs of her eyes, living and dead, stared back at her in horror. But when she blinked, the likeness disappeared. It was just her stretching and he and the snakes caressing her. She let her arms fall back.

“Don’t you?” he demanded. He didn’t seem to have seen it. He plunged his finger into her cunt when she still didn’t respond. The snakes hissed as loud as screams, like they could taste her on his fingers. “Tell me you want this.”

“I—”

“Nobody’s ever wanted me. But you do.”

She choked as he grabbed her throat and stared into her eyes in the mirror, lifting his snake-crowned head up next to hers, making her meet his gaze, thick scaly bodies slithering across her face as he pumped his finger in and out of her.

“You do. Say it.”

“I want you to touch me.”

Two fingers now, or maybe three. “Do you want me to let you go?”

“No?”

“Never,” he growled, thrusting in and out of her in a rhythm she couldn’t keep up with. She felt lost inside herself and falling deeper. “Never.”

Rey cried out. Something was happening to her. She’d felt so good and now it hurt. Something was coming, it was going to take her over if he didn’t stop touching her. “Stop,” she said. “Stop.”

“You don’t want that.”

She tried to push his arm away from her body, shoving at him with both her hands and all her might, but he didn’t budge. He was pushing her in a different way, pushing her to a point inside herself. His big rude hand was fucking her so hard she couldn’t think. She was too full of him. He brought his other hand down again to that certain spot and it was too much, it was immediately too much, he brushed her there just a few times and she broke open like an amphora, letting out everything she was supposed to keep inside.

“See?” he panted. “See? I know what you need. I won’t let you go.” He was stroking her there gently now, and the snakes were softly licking away her tears. She didn’t know she was crying until she saw the wet cheeks of her reflection.

She fell forward, leaning on her hands on the mirror, trying to catch up with what just happened. The metal surface felt deathly cold against her palms and she remembered with a snap where she was. The _Necromanteion_. She straightened up again, wiping her hands off on her thighs, wishing she could wipe away the touch from the mirror.

“Let me take care of you. Let me protect you.” The snakes rubbed their underbellies soothingly through her hair. He kneaded her shoulders, ran his hands down her arms, rubbed her belly, until she finally stopped crying. “I made you feel so good,” he crooned, wrapping his hand around her chin and forcing her face to look at him in the mirror. 

She tried to turn around and look him in the eyes, to actually connect with him, but he stopped her, preventing any movement on her part with the size and force of his body.

“You forgot what I am,” he laughed, stroking her cheek. “I’m going to make it all better. But you need to let me.” He held up one of the leather straps from her bracers. “I’ll just tie this over your eyes and then we can be together. I can hold you like you need.”

He stopped, squinting past her into the darkness of the mirror. It looked like a tunnel again, dark but capturing the light. “You touched it,” he said. His voice sounded like someone else entirely. He shook her. “You touched the mirror. You woke the dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there will be a Ch. 2! In the meantime check out my other fics:
> 
> [Verse Cannon](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102193) is canon-divergent. Dark Empress Rey x Beefy Baby Ben. Very slutty, very kinky, very bi. Femdom. Rey shows Ben the power of the Dark Side. Ben discovers his inner poet. 
> 
> [From My Heart and from My Hand](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26658691) is mad scientist Reylo madness set in the Black Forest in the 1930s. Very kinky, full of cults and the occult and the magical, but also weird science and alternate history. 
> 
> Both are darkfics. Read the tags.
> 
> Find me on Twitter [@spiffrick](https://mobile.twitter.com/spiffrick) and on Tumblr [@spiffyricky](https://spiffyricky.tumblr.com/).
> 
> **Amphora** \- a jug that usually held wine. [Looked like this.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amphora)  
>  **Basilisk** \- [mythological creature](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basilisk). Giant snake that turned you to stone with its eyes. Like Medusa, but just a big fat snake.  
>  **Bracers** \- armor for the forearms. Rey's are made of [leather straps](https://www.google.com/search?q=bracer+straps&tbm=isch&ved=2ahUKEwi3oqnI8-juAhWFBd8KHVZoDtQQ2-cCegQIABAA&oq=bracer+straps&gs_lcp=CgNpbWcQA1C9Dli9DmCjEWgAcAB4AIABQogBQpIBATGYAQCgAQGqAQtnd3Mtd2l6LWltZ8ABAQ&sclient=img&ei=8dcoYPflJIWL_AbW0LmgDQ&bih=600&biw=961&client=firefox-b-1-d&hl=en-US).  
>  **Chiton** \- [a basic Greek garment](http://www.hellenicaworld.com/Greece/Ancient/en/Fashion2.html), pinned at the shoulders. You can't see most of it under Rey's armor. Her outfit looks like #10 (dude in the lower left) in [this picture](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_dress#/media/File:Ancient_Times,_Greek._-_009_-_Costumes_of_All_Nations_\(1882\).JPG), without the helmet.  
>  **Cuirass** \- [a breastplate and backplate attached together.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Muscle_cuirass)  
>  **Gnomon** \- [the triangle in the middle of a sundial.](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gnomon)  
>  **Greaves** \- [shin guards.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greave)  
>  **Himation** \- another basic Greek garment, floor-length and draped rather than pinned. Kylo wears his just like [this guy](https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Himation#/media/File:Dr%C3%A4kt,_Grek_i_himation,_Nordisk_familjebok.png), though of course Kylo's is black.  
>  **Lambrequins** \- the leather flaps that come out from the bottom of the cuirass. You can see them clearly [here](https://ancientgreekarmor.weebly.com/breastplate.html).  
>  **Mosaic** \- is based on [this statue](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Perseus_with_the_Head_of_Medusa) by Cellini. The statue is famous for depicting both the hero and the monster with identical faces.  
>  **Necromanteion** \- ancient Greek word, means "death oracle". There were [several of them](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Necromanteion_of_Acheron) in ancient Greece, including the one at Tainaron. They were believed to be gateways to the underworld.  
>  **Oil lamp** \- [like Aladdin's lamp.](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Oil_lamp)  
>  **Proton Ethnos** \- ancient Greek for "First Order".  
>  **Tainaron** \- Cape Tainaron, at the end of the Mani Peninsula in what was Sparta. Site of the [temple to Poseidon and Necromanteion](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Temple_of_Poseidon_\(Tainaron\)). Here are some beautiful pictures of [what it looks like today](https://www.sofiaskaleidoscope.com/post/cape-tainaron).


End file.
